


Shout

by likebunnies



Category: Sleepy Hollow (TV)
Genre: Angst, Cross-Posted on Tumblr, F/M, Ficlet, Missing Abbie Mills, Season/Series 03, Season/Series 03 Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-09
Updated: 2016-02-09
Packaged: 2018-05-19 06:03:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5956401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/likebunnies/pseuds/likebunnies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ichabod Crane shouts at the sky.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shout

He didn't care about food or comfort or sleep. Crane didn't care about pity, either. All he cared about was finding his Lieutenant. Miss Jenny and the young Joe Corbin tried their best but right now, he didn't want them or need them. They slowed him down. He'd walk around in the woods, the same woods where he and the Lieutenant said “come what may” without ever thinking this was what may come. He knew that they could die – fighting gods certainly wasn't the smartest thing they had ever done – and immortality wasn't necessarily a benefit of being a Witness. He had always hoped that it would be him first. Selfish, yes, but he had lost enough and he didn't want to ever have to feel the pain he was feeling right now. 

She wasn't dead. He was sure of it. He knew his partner too well and she wouldn't let go that easily. No, not Abbie. 

He'd read book after book, taking some into those same woods, just to try to say the spells. To make sure the words would roll off of his tongue when the time came. He'd scream the words to the heavens and he'd cry and shout her name to whomever was listening, hoping the heavens would open up and give him his Abbie back. 

They never did. 

He was certain that Joe and Miss Jenny followed him a few times but they never made their presence known. All for the better as far as he was concerned. She had her own healing to do and needn't worry about him as he walked through the woods and then the city streets at night, on his way to the Lieutenant's home. He'd sit in her room, on her bed, talking to her as if she could hear him because she slept in here. Many mornings, he'd wake up, still in all his clothing and on top of her new quilts, and he'd jump up, afraid of how improper this would look. 

Then he'd remember there was no one to see him here anyway. 

Crane would talk to her in the kitchen. Talk to her photograph. Talk to her when he was “borrowing” the motorbike and helmet he'd need soon. He was always talking to her. And sometimes, he could feel her rolling her eyes at him but still being somewhat amused nonetheless. For they were bound together in the this moment no matter where she might be. 

And he'd go on shouting to the heavens for her. Until she came back. Until his dying day. Come what may.


End file.
